Enter Sandman
by SitaT'eyla
Summary: Trip tells Malcolm why he doesn't like Mr. Sandman.


**Title**: Enter Sandman

**Authors**: Sita/T'eyla

**Genre**: Humor/Horror

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: We do not own Star Trek, and we do not own Metallica. Which might not be such a bad thing, after all.

**Summary**: Trip tells Malcolm why he doesn't like Mr. Sandman.

**Warnings**: Slash (Tucker/Reed)

**AN**: Thanks to Gabi for betaing. Please note the warnings above.

This fic was inspired by Metallica's 1991 single "Enter Sandman". For the lyrics, please visit

_www(dot)anysonglyrics__(dot)__com(slash)lyrics__(slash)__m__(slash)__metallica__(slash)__entersandman.htm ._

No small Trips were harmed in the production of this fic... well, just one ;). As always, feedback is very welcome. Enjoy!

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It had been a long day. Rolling over on his side, Malcolm pulled the blanket up to his chin, thoughts drifting drowsily. Tomorrow was his day off... maybe he would indulge himself and sleep in for a change. Yes, he might actually do that... he had no big plans for the day, and why rise early when the bed was so nice and soft...

A rustling of blankets, accompanied by a knee bumping into his thigh, stirred him back to awareness.

"Sorry," Trip's muffled voice said somewhere behind his back. More rustling followed, then the mattress began to wobble as Trip propped himself on his elbow and started to rearrange his pillow.

Malcolm sighed inaudibly and closed his eyes, his mind returning to the pleasant prospect of spending the morning in bed. Not that it was something he usually did; one of the legacies of growing up a Reed was that he would feel slightly guilty whenever he slept longer than seven am. Things had changed a little, however, since Trip Tucker frequently spent the night in Malcolm's quarters. Malcolm smiled a little. Now that he had a reason to stay in bed longer than absolutely necessary, the idea of "sleeping in" was no longer something he associated with "shiftlessness", as his mother would have called it. Their day off was something he looked forward to all week, including the slow waking up and the activities that usually followed. Malcolm's smile widened at the thought, his mind drifting further into sleep.

_Bump._ This time, an elbow made contact with his ribs, startling Malcolm back to reality.

"Sorry, Mal."

When the blankets started to rustle again, Malcolm let out a sigh and rolled over to face his partner.

"What is it, Trip?"

Trip's tousled head emerged from between the pillows, a somewhat guilty expression on his face. "Sorry, Mal, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me," Malcolm said. "With you rummaging around like that, I never got the chance to go to sleep." He smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Can't sleep, love?"

Trip sighed and plopped his head back down on the pillow. "Naw," he said. "I don't know why, I'm really tired... I can't get comfortable for some reason."

_Not much of a surprise, with two grown men trying to fit onto a standard-sized bunk_, Malcolm thought but didn't say. He didn't want Trip to think that he didn't like the sleeping arrangements – he did like them, even though he wouldn't have said no to an extra-sized bed like the Captain had in his quarters.

Instead of giving an answer, he nudged Trip's shoulder. "Turn over."

Trip complied, rolling over so that he was facing the wall. Malcolm slid closer and pulled his partner into a spoon, then tugged at the blankets until they were both covered.

"Comfortable now?"

"Yeah." He could hear the smile in Trip's voice. "Got my cuddly teddy bear and all."

Malcolm smirked and gave Trip a dig in the ribs. "I'm not cuddly, and I'm definitely not a teddy bear. And if you think that I'm going to tell you the story of Mr. Sandman, then forget about it."

His loose remark didn't quite cause the reaction he had expected. Trip actually flinched, then turned his head so he could look at Malcolm over his shoulder. His face was a mixture of amusement and not-quite-fake nervousness.

"If ya tell me one thing 'bout Mr. Sandman, I'm outta here, jus' so you know."

Trip's expression and the tone of his voice drew a confused smile from Malcolm. "What's wrong with Mr. Sandman, Trip? I used to read about him to Madeline when we were little, and she loved him."

Trip all but shuddered. "Let's not talk about Sandman, okay?"

"You make the name sound like it's something awful." Malcolm was honestly confused. "Didn't you like to hear about Sandman as a kid?"

Trip sighed. "I did. Until I was four."

"What happened then?"

Trip sighed again. "Andy happened."

--------

Mom said that there were too many things in Trip's bed, but Trip didn't think that it was true. There were the things he needed, like his walkie-talkie and the toolbox Dad had given him for his birthday (with a real wire cutter, which Trip was not allowed to use on his own). Then there were the things he had to keep an eye on so Lizzy wouldn't ruin them, like his aircars and starships and the painted penholder he had made in pre-school. Finally, there were Kermit the Frog, Annihilation Man, who was an action figure, and Eddie, the big turtle Trip had had for as long as he could remember. Mom said that Annihilation Man should stay on the chair in front of the bed; he had a pointy gun in his hand and Mom was afraid that he might poke Trip in the eye. Trip had solved the problem by stuffing Annihilation Man under his pillow before he went to sleep every night; down there, the gun could do no harm, and Annihilation Man could still stay in his bed. That was important, since it was Andy who had given him the action figure, and a gift from Andy had to be treasured and revered.

There was still plenty of room in the bed, and Trip loved to go to sleep with the comforting feeling that he wasn't alone. And if he couldn't sleep, he could always take out his tools and do a few repairs on his bed (although Mom had hit the roof, the time one of the front legs had come off).

Today, he was having a starship race, with Eddie, Kermit and Annihilation Man as spectators. The _Pride of Space_ had just started with a particularly loud bang (Trip was already a little out of breath, since he had to do the engine noise and the commentary all by himself), when Andy's voice came from the bed on the other side of the room.

"Turn down the volume, will ya? I'm tryin' to read here."

Trip considered ignoring him – the race would only be half as much fun without sound – but then he decided against it. Andy was ten, a Big Kid, and Trip almost always did what Andy wanted. Andy could do stuff Trip could only dream of, like surfing and skating and finishing the last level of "Dark Fortress", and he knew almost everything. Even so, he sometimes played with Trip and had even gotten into a fight with Parker Jones for him. As far as Trip was concerned, Andy was the coolest person alive.

He finished the race in silence (the _Starlight_ overtook two other ships at the very last minute and was the first to cross the finishing line), then had Annihilation Man present the Champions' Cup and took the starships back to the dock, which was at the foot of his bed. When he was done, Trip lay down, Eddie snuggled in the crook of his arm, and looked over at Andy, who was absorbed in his comic book.

"What're you readin'?"

Andy acted as if he hadn't heard him and turned the page.

"What're you readin', huh, Andy?"

This time, Andy lowered the comic book to glare at Trip. "You wouldn't understand it. Now stop botherin' me."

It was probably true that Trip wouldn't understand the comic Andy was reading; it was a Big Kid Thing, after all. He eyed the stack of dog-eared comic books in front of Andy's bed. "Can I borrow one of your books, Andy? I won't ruin it, I promise."

Andy looked up again, this time narrowing his eyes at Trip. "If I catch you touchin' these, I'll take that stupid turtle of yours and have myself a nice bonfire in the backyard."

Trip clutched Eddie more tightly to his chest. Boy, was Andy in a cranky mood today. "Mom won't let you," he said very quietly, half-hoping that Andy wouldn't hear it.

"Stay away from my comic books, or your turtle will be a smokin' pile of ash," Andy growled, his face half-hidden behind his book again.

Trip thought of Eddie burning in Andy's bonfire and hoped that Andy would never find out that Trip had secretly looked at most of the comics stacked in front of the bed when Andy had been away in summer camp.

He turned over, Eddie still in his arms. "Don't worry," he whispered in Eddie's ear. "I don't think you'd burn very well, anyway." He whispered very quietly so Andy wouldn't hear him; if Andy found out that Trip talked to his stuffed animals, he would laugh and call him a baby.

Eddie wasn't afraid of Andy, though, and Trip began to tell him about today when he and Dad had changed the tires on the old truck and Dad had let Trip remove all of the four hubcaps.

He was just telling him about the cool new wrench Dad had bought especially for today when he heard the door open.

"Andy, what did I tell you about readin' comic books in bed?"

Trip turned around. Mom had come in and was frowning at Andy who pulled a face. "Mo-om," he said, but Mom shook her head.

"Andrew Stanford Tucker, you put that book away right now," she said. Andy rolled his eyes, but didn't talk back again and put the comic book aside.

"I don't see why I can't read comics in bed," he said, but he said it quietly, and Mom didn't pay him any attention. She picked up a few stray socks and Andy's school bag, closed the shutters and then came over to sit on the edge of Trip's bed. She smiled at him, then reached over and picked up Annihilation Man who hadn't yet disappeared to his usual place under the pillow.

"Don't you think he'd like it better with the other action figures on the shelf?" she asked.

Trip shook his head. "No, he doesn't like The Black Avenger. They're always fightin'."

Mom laughed and nodded. "Alright," she said. "Just keep him under your pillow, okay?"

"Sure," Trip said. "You can put him there, if you like."

Mom lifted a corner of the pillow, then looked back at Trip. "Does he want me to kiss him good-night?"

Trip thought that Mom was pretty cool, but she really didn't know a thing about action figures. "No," he said. "He wouldn't like that."

Mom laughed again, although Trip wasn't quite sure why. "Alright," she said and tucked the action figure under the pillow. "Good night, Annihilation Man."

Trip snuggled into his pillow, feeling a hard bulge where Annihilation Man was sleeping and looked at Mom.

"Can you tell me the story of Mr. Sandman?" he asked, and Mom smiled.

"Sure," she said.

A groan came from Andy's side of the room. "Not that borin' baby stuff again."

Mom didn't turned around. "Andy, be quiet," she said. She pulled the blanket up to Trip's shoulders and tucked him in, giving Eddie a pat on the head.

"When you're really, really tired, and the sun is goin' down and the stars are comin' out, Mr. Sandman comes with flyin' with his bag of magic sand, and he sprinkles just a tiny little bit onto your eyes so you go to sleep."

"How does he get in here?" Trip asked. He knew the story, but that was what he always asked at this point, and Mom had already expected his question.

"He can do magic, you know," she said.

"He blows up the window with his magic hand grenade," Andy muttered from his bed.

Mom ignored him. "He can go anywhere he wants," she said. "And when you're asleep, he takes your hand and flies away with you to Never-Never Land."

"What's it like there?" Trip wanted to know.

"It's a wonderful place," Mom said. "All your friends are there-"

"Parker Jones, too?"

Mom smiled. "Only if you want him to be."

Trip considered. "He can be there," he said then. "But only if he doesn't call me names again."

Mom nodded. "So, there's Parker Jones, but he's nice, and there are lots of other kids, and you can play all day."

"Can I do whatever I want in Never-Never Land?" Trip asked. "Can I drive the truck there?"

Mom laughed again. "If you want to, you can drive the truck. But only in Never-Never Land. And you can stay on the beach all day, and have a barbecue every night-"

"Can I read Andy's comic books there?"

"Yes," Mom said. "You can do whatever you want."

"That's so cool," Trip said. Mom smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Well then, good night," she said, kissed him on the cheek and got up. "Sleep well, kiddo."

"Night, Mom," Trip said and watched as she went over to Andy's bed. Some time ago, Mom had still read to Andy every night, but then Andy had said that he was too old for Story Time, and now, Mom only gave him a good-night kiss. Trip had been kind of sad when Andy hadn't wanted Story Time anymore; he had liked to listen to Mom read every night, even though the stories had mostly been Big Kid stories. But it wasn't long now until Trip would start school himself, and then Mom would start reading to him. He was still trying to decide if he wanted to hear "Harry Potter" or "The Dragonhunter" first.

"Night, Mom," Andy said, and Mom tucked him in and then went over to the door.

"Good night, guys," she said, then turned off the light and closed the door. Trip could hear her walking down the hallway and then opening the door to Sol and Lizzy's room.

Trip wiggled around until he was comfortable, then pulled Eddie out from underneath the blanket and sat him on his stomach.

"When we go to Never-Never Land tonight, first thing I'm gonna do is buy myself a surf board," he whispered very quietly so only Eddie could hear him. "Andy has one, too. But mine's gonna be much cooler. And I'm gonna eat a whole bag of marshmallows all by myself. And I'm gonna read all of Andy's comic books."

He grinned and turned his head. "You know what, Andy?" he said aloud.

Andy didn't turn around. "What?"

"When I'm in Never-Never Land tonight, I'm gonna read all of your comic books. And you can't put Eddie in a bonfire because in Never-Never Land I can do whatever I want."

Andy was quiet for a moment, then slowly turned around and looked at Trip. "Yeah, right," he said.

Trip swallowed and wrapped his arms around Eddie, just to make sure. "Yeah," he said. "Mom said I could."

Andy laughed, but it didn't sound very nice. "If I were you, I wouldn't believe everything Mom's tellin' me."

"Why?" Trip asked.

Andy reached out and switched on the lamp on his bedside table. For a moment, he just looked at Trip, and Trip squirmed a little under his blanket, pulling Eddie even closer.

"You don't really believe that story about Sandman, do you?" Andy asked. "Because Mom's only tellin' you that 'cause she doesn't want you to know the truth."

"What is the truth?" Trip asked. He wished Andy would stop talking like that; his voice sounded mean and a little dangerous, and it was beginning to scare Trip.

"The truth about Sandman," Andy said. "Do you know what Sandman looks like?"

Trip shook his head. Mom had never told him.

"Well, nobody really knows," Andy said. "But I saw him once."

"But he only comes when it's dark," Trip said, and Andy shrugged.

"I saw him, anyway. He looks like a monster." Andy's voice sounded even meaner than before. "He's big, and he has bright, red eyes that glow in the dark, and long fingers with claws. And his teeth are like a vampire's teeth, and he smells like a rotten corpse."

Trip dug his fingers into Eddie's soft back. "What's a corpse?"

"It's a dead body," Andy said. "And he looks like a dead body, too. His skin is all black, and it's fallin' off in places, and you can see his bones inside."

"But..." Trip swallowed. "But Mr. Sandman's nice, isn't he?"

"D'you really think someone who looks like that is nice?" Andy asked. "Do you wanna know what he had with him when I saw him?"

Trip thought that maybe he didn't really want to know, but Andy didn't wait for him to say anything.

"A skull," Andy said, and even though Trip didn't know what a "skull" was, he thought that it was the most awful word he'd ever heard. "The skull of a little girl. He ripped her head off and peeled off the skin, and now he uses the skull for his sand. But it's not really sand, you know. It's the bones of dead bodies he dug up at the cemetery at midnight. And he crushed them to tiny little pieces-"

"How?" Trip asked. He hadn't really wanted to say anything, the word had just slipped out.

Andy frowned. "I don't know. Maybe he drives his tank over them."

Trip thought of the Sandman with his red, glowing eyes and his sharp teeth sitting in his tank and crushing bones at the cemetery, and thought that he might start crying.

"And do you know what he does with his sand?" Andy asked, and Trip shook his head.

"I saw him," Andy said. "It was really late, and I couldn't sleep, and then the Sandman came. He oozed right through the window, and he went over to your bed, and was standin' right there."

Trip looked at the place right in front of his bed where the Sandman had been standing, then back at Andy. He could feel the tears wanting to come out of his eyes, and sniffed.

"You were fast asleep and didn't see him," Andy said. "And you know what he did then? He reached into the skull" - Andy demonstrated with his hands - "and took out a handful of bone-sand. He held it over you, just like that... and do you know what would've happened if he had sprinkled it on you?"

Trip shook his head, sliding a little further under his blanket. The tears were running down his cheeks now, and he didn't dare make a sound.

"You would've gone to Never-Never Land," Andy said.

Trip sniffed again and raised a hand to wipe his eyes. "B-but Never-Never Land's nice, isn't it?"

"Do you think it'd be called Never-Never Land if it was?" Andy snorted. "It's called that because you never-never wanna go there, and if you do, you never-never come back. It's a terrible place."

"But Mom said it's nice there," Trip whispered. "It's nice, and there're lots of kids, and I can do whatever I want."

Andy laughed his mean laugh again. "Yeah, there're lots of kids for sure. But they don't like it there. You know what the place looks like? It's dark, like the basement over at Grandma's house, and it smells like that, too. Worse, even. The kids are all chained to the walls, and you're not allowed to ever say a word. There's lots of spiders and bugs everywhere, and the kids never get any food-"

"But don't they die?" Trip was crying again.

"Some of them do," Andy said. "Some of them get by eatin' spiders, and if you're especially lucky, you might catch a rat. And then you have to eat it. Alive."

"I wouldn't," Trip whispered.

"You'd have to," Andy answered. "Or you would starve to death."

"I'd run away."

"Didn't you listen? You'd be chained to the wall, you couldn't go anywhere. And besides, there are lots of monsters guardin' the doors. They'd rip you to pieces if you tried to escape. And when they're hungry, they just bite an arm or a leg off the kids. Do you know how many of the kids there are missin' arms and legs... and sometimes, the head." Andy grinned. "But you were lucky that time. The Sandman didn't sprinkle any sand on you. If he had, you would've vanished and gone to Never-Never Land. Just like that."

Trip pulled his blanket over his head and started to sob. "You're lyin'! That's not true!"

"Yeah, well," he heard Andy's voice. "That time when I saw the Sandman, I thought I was dreamin', too. But then, in the mornin'..."

Trip peeked out from under his blanket. "What happened in the mornin'?"

Andy looked at him for a moment. "I found a grain of his sand," he said then. "It was on the floor, right next to your bed. If you had stepped on it, you would've disappeared and gone to Never-Never Land."

Trip stared at him. "What did you do?"

"I put on one of Dad's work gloves, picked up the grain and put it in an envelope. And do you know what happened then?"

Trip shook his head.

"The envelope... it disappeared. Went right to Never-Never Land."

Trip was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Why didn't the glove disappear, too?"

For some reason, Andy seemed annoyed. "What sort of stupid question is that? It just didn't. Maybe the Sandman doesn't need any gloves."

Trip wondered what the Sandman needed the envelope for, but didn't ask. His throat felt hot and very tight, and his mouth was dry. He was afraid to move, afraid even to breathe, thinking of the monsters and the spiders and the kids that were missing arms and legs and heads. He tried to imagine what it would feel like if a monster bit off his arm. He was pretty sure that it would hurt even more than the time when he had burned his hand on the stove and had had to go to the doctor.

"Well," Andy said. "You got off easy that time. But there's not tellin' what he'll do next time he comes by." He grinned at Trip one more time, then turned off the light. "See you tomorrow, bro. Or not."

Trip bit his lip and buried himself underneath his blanket. Tears were still running down his cheeks, and he hid his face in Eddie's soft belly, sobbing quietly. He would hold on to Eddie really tight, and if the Sandman came to get him tonight, maybe he could take Eddie along with him to Never-Never Land. Then at least he wouldn't be all alone.

--------

"Your brother's quite the sadist, isn't he."

Malcolm imagined four-year-old Trip trembling under his blanket, turtle clutched in his arms, and thought by himself that Andy would have deserved a little taste of "Mr. Sandman" himself.

"Yeah, well, he did have his moments," Trip said.

Malcolm snuck a hand into Trip's hair. "Well, I can see now why you wouldn't appreciate me telling you about Mr. Sandman," he said. "Even though I wouldn't have gone for the blood and gore version."

Trip chuckled a little. "Well, I guess I'm traumatized for life."

"And for how long exactly did you wake up screaming after that?" Malcolm asked.

Trip sighed. "I did have a few bad nights. But the main problem was that I refused to get out of bed in the morning."

Malcolm frowned. "Why's that?"

"I was afraid to step on left-behind grains of bone sand."

Malcolm had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh.

--------

"Don't come any closer!"

Mom was looking at him with big eyes. "Trip, what's wrong?" she asked.

Trip shook his head. "Don't come any closer. There's bones on the floor."

"Bones?" Mom said. "There are no bones, Trip."

Trip held on to Eddie. "You can't see them. They're to small, he crushed them with his tank. Don't!" he cried when Mom took a step towards his bed.

She stayed where she was. "Who did?" she wanted to know.

Trip sniffed. "Mr. Sandman," he said. "He's got a goll, and there's bones in there, and they take you to Never-Never Land."

Mom's eyes had grown even bigger. "Mr. Sandman?" she repeated. "Where did you get that idea, Trip?"

"He's got bones and monsters that bite off your arms," Trip said. "He's really mean."

Mom looked at him for a moment, and then she began walking towards the bed. Trip squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see her vanish, but then the mattress wobbled underneath him, and he opened his eyes again to see Mom sitting beside him. She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

"See?" she said. "Nothin' happened."

"You just missed them," Trip whispered. "Now you have to stay here so he doesn't get you."

Mom began to stroke his hair. "It's okay, kiddo. Mr. Sandman won't hurt you. You just had a bad dream."

Trip shook his head. "That's what Andy thought at first. But then he found the bone-sand on the floor, and he took Dad's glove and-"

"Andy?" Mom asked, and suddenly, her voice didn't sound so nice anymore. "What did Andy tell you?"

"He told me what Never-Never Land's really like." Trip sniffed. "That you have to eat spiders there, and live in Grandma's basement, and the monsters eat your head."

Mom was silent for a moment. Then she took Trip's shoulders and gently turned him around so she could look him in the face.

"Now listen to me, Trip," she said. "What Andy told you is not true. He only told you that to scare you. And I'm gonna talk to him about that. Mr. Sandman is not mean, and he's not gonna hurt you."

Mom's face was very serious, and for a moment Trip wasn't sure if she was mad at him. Then he decided that she wasn't. He said nothing, looking down at Eddie and Annihilation Man who were sitting in front of him on the bed.

"Trip, look at me," Mom said, and he raised his head. "Did you understand what I told you?"

Trip nodded. "Uh-huh," he said.

Mom briefly wrapped her arms around him, then got up from the edge of the bed and walked to the door, again missing the grains Mr. Sandman had left behind.

"I'll be right back, kiddo," she said, then opened the door, and in a voice that sounded almost as mean as Andy's had last night called: "Andrew Stanford Tucker! Come right here!"

Trip crawled back under his blanket, taking Eddie and Annihilation Man with him. "Don't worry," he whispered to them. "Mr. Sandman's not gonna get us. I'm gonna get Dad's gloves and put them on every night. Mr. Sandman doesn't like them. He's not gonna take us with him then."

The three of them smiled at each other. That seemed like a very good plan.

--------

"I wore the gloves every night for the next four weeks." Trip smiled. "Dad was not happy. But it helped. As you can see, I'm still here."

Malcolm snorted into Trip's shoulder. "What happened to your brother?" he asked.

"He got grounded for a month. Not that it did that much for me; he was convinced that it was my fault and used every chance he got to pay me back."

Malcolm shook his head. "I look forward to meeting him in person," he said.

"He's a psychiatrist now," Trip said. "Works at the local hospital."

Malcolm laughed. "That sounds like poetic justice."

Trip chuckled. A moment of silence followed, Malcolm running his fingers through Trip's hair and thinking of how he had always imagined Sandman to look like as a kid; a nice old gentleman with a long white beard and a loose, dark-blue robe. If he had told Madeline anything like the story of Andy's Evil Sandman, Mum would have killed him. Then again, even though Madeline might not have liked the skull and bones part, she probably would have appreciated the tank. Madeline had always liked tanks.

He slid a little closer to Trip, and was just starting to drift off again when he remembered something. "You had Annihilation Man sleeping in your bed?" he asked with a soft laugh in his voice.

Trip turned his head a little and grinned. "Still do," he said.

Malcolm frowned, then groaned and poked Trip in the ribs.

"Don't!" Trip yelped, then laughed. "Don't worry, I won't stuff you under my pillow."

"Not that I'd fit," Malcolm replied, grinning at the strange mental image.

They settled down again into their former spoon, and Malcolm buried his face in Trip's back and closed his eyes. His partner's familiar warmth was making him drowsy, and he knew that it would not be long until he was asleep. Suddenly an image entered his mind, Evil Sandman with his snake-like eyes and vampire teeth holding a little girl's skull and sprinkling foul smelling bone-sand on his hapless victims.

Malcolm opened his eyes again and peered over at the window. It was right across from the foot of his bunk, and just in case someone oozed through it, it would only take Malcolm one leap to get there. He would have to keep an eye on the claws, but he was fairly certain that a single swift Mae-Geri kick would knock out his opponent. And just in case, there was still the phase pistol in his desk...

Malcolm realized that he was actually thinking about how to karate Mr. Sandman back out the window, and stopped this train of thought before it could take him any further. Inwardly shaking his head at himself, he settled back down against Trip and closed his eyes.

It didn't matter whether you had Eddie the turtle or a softly snoring Chief Engineer in your bed; as long as you weren't alone, Mr. Sandman wouldn't get you.

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